


The Prince & The Pilot

by liviay



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A little angst, Canon-Typical Violence, DarkPilot, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, Prince Ben Solo, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, knightpilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liviay/pseuds/liviay
Summary: Things start to unravel when Poe is summoned to welcome Prince Ben back to Alderaan, after the young Solo spent years off-planet in Jedi and political training





	The Prince & The Pilot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darktensh17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktensh17/gifts).



 

 

“He is coming home!”

The excitement modulating Queen Leia Organa’s voice was so energetic she sounded almost giddy, her youthful intonation a pleasant yet disarming surprise. Poe Dameron had no doubt about the “he” in her sentence: Ben Solo, the queen’s heir and only son, was coming back to Alderaan after years of training far away in space. The time had come for Leia to finally withdrawn to an advisory position, maybe run for the Senate, and leave her seat at the planet’s government for prince Ben to take.

Poe was at the doorway of her bright chambers when she blurted that out. He was waiting for her permission to enter the room, so he just stood there, pinned to the floor by nostalgia and apprehension. The Queen’s consort, Commander Han Solo, was sitting on the couch next to her, looking as amused by Organa’s whimsical outburst as by Poe’s sudden hesitation.

“Leia, I think you broke the kid,” Solo said, smirking.

Poe managed to mumble an apology. The royal family knew how close their son and Poe used to be when they were little children running around the gardens. Poe’s father had been a member of Commander Solo’s special forces team during the war and, after the end of the conflict, Kes Dameron stayed in Alderaan as chief of security. He was a young widow with a small baby boy, so Poe was raised not only by his blood father, but by every other resident within the palace, from the floor-sweeping droids to young queen Leia herself.

Poe grew up a happy and outgoing child, indulged as though he was the actual prince of Alderaan, until the queen’s belly started to show. Everybody thought young Poe would become jealous of the real prince now coming his way, but quite the opposite happened when Ben Solo arrived, in a cold winter morning. Poe was no older than 4, but he remembered peering at the angry little burden on Leia’s arms with curiosity that instantly turned into affection, and then to a sense of responsibility he would carry throughout his life.

From that first moment, he knew he was supposed to protect that crying fellow, just like his own father protected Commander Solo and Queen Leia. With all the dignity toddler Poe could muster back then, he solemnly saluted to the baby and vowed to safeguard him no matter what. It was a bittersweet memory, with the conflicting tinges of tenderness and embarrassment that one’s infant behavior usually evokes.

As soon as Ben was able to move around by himself, he started following Poe through the castle, like a shadow. Or more like a little ghost, with skin paler than snow and hair darker even than Poe’s. Poe was glad the noisy baby turned out to be a quiet child, one he could play with for hours, dutifully accompanying him in long expeditions beyond the royal gardens, or to secrecy-laden escapades to the main hangar, or even meticulously planned trips to the kitchens to steal treats.

Ben’s parents were always busy, rebuilding a broken galaxy from the ruins of war. Ben’s fabled Jedi uncle was lost to a seemingly never-ending quest for Jedi lore. The prince had no siblings, no cousins, and Poe was his only friend. One didn’t have to wonder why Ben would try to be as close to his future captain of the guard as possible.

Poe bit his lip, startled by all these things he hadn’t thought about in years. He was brought back from reminiscing by the sound of his name: Leia had said it more than twice already.

“Poe Dameron, are you listening?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her cheerful tone subdued by mild concern.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m sorry, your highness. I guess I was… struck by… recollection. I came as soon as I got your message,” Poe answered, fidgeting, still wondering if he was supposed to enter the room or stay at the carpeted hallway.

Sensing Poe’s uncertainty, Commander Solo pointed him a chair near the sofa, but left the talking to the queen.

“Ben’s transport will arrive tomorrow, at noon. Nobody knows it yet, we’re keeping it a secret. He’s coming under a disguise. I’ll be sending his ship’s info to that droid of yours. We promised him a few days of rest before we publicize and start planning the crowning ceremony,” Queen Leia explained, finally seating at Solo’s side.

Poe nodded an affirmative, trying to focus on what Leia was saying, but his mind drifted a bit. He was the head of security now, after his successful career at the alderaanian starfleet. Old Kes had retired a couple of years ago, so it was Poe’s job to oversee preparations to welcome the prince. Making things as private as possible would probably be for the best, with less need of planning, personnel, and vehicles.

“Don’t worry, madam. I’m going to start the arrangements for his arrival right now,” Poe said. “Should I bring him to the palace afterwards?”

The queen and her husband shared a brief look.

“Take him wherever he asks you to, Poe. As long as it’s safe, of course. You can take a few days off as well. Consider it a well-deserved vacation,” the queen answered in her usual business-like way, all playfulness gone.

Poe just nodded again, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t even remember the last time he took a break from work. It had been non-stop since he entered the fleet’s academy, since Ben left for his training to become a Jedi and a political leader, far away across the galaxy, stars knew where.

“I will do my best to serve you, as always” Poe said, bowing slightly, raising from the seat he had uncomfortably taken.

“We know, my dear. We trust you completely,” the queen said, making a soft gesture towards the door.

Before Poe left, he heard Han Solo’s husky voice once again.

“Relax, kid. You were never the nervous one.”

Poe exhaled, then tried to put on one of his famous smiles, but his jaw was so tense he feared he might crack it.

“Thanks for the advice, sir,” Poe said.

But following Han Solo’s suggestion seemed impossible. The life Poe had carefully engendered for himself seemed to fade as memories of Ben flooded his mind, and Poe’s practiced nonchalance morphed into a nausea-inducing anxiety. Poe was no longer a boy when Ben left, but he wasn’t a man either. And he knew they were drifting apart even before Ben stepped into the transport that took him away from Alderaan twelve years ago. Everything was so confusing back then, growing up.

Things were just easier when they were very young. Those were the good times, and they flashed through Poe’s mind as he rushed to the privacy of his office at the palace, dreading that the weird half-sincere smile on his face might melt into an earnest grimace. Luckily, no one seemed to care about his presence. It was too early, only droids and a handful of guards and servants had started their day shift. Still, Poe could feel his palms so sweaty he wouldn’t be able to grip the yoke of his old fighter to complete even a rookie flyby.

Commander Solo was right. He wasn’t the nervous one, but when something got him, it truly got him bad. Poe regarded himself as a simple man: it was easy to be unconcerned about things that shouldn’t concern him, and most things wouldn’t bother his carefree spirit anyway. But Ben Solo was something completely different.

Back then, Ben’s idiosyncrasies struck Poe as nothing more than teenage quirkiness, an oddity that only got more annoying as Poe’s curiosity about it faded. Well, at least until it became downright horrifying. Ben still kept following him everywhere as they got older, but things went from funny and cute to clingy and needy. It was like having a stalker, and one who could move things with his mind, have weird intuitions about someone else’s private thoughts… one who was a magic person, someone touched by the Force, whatever that meant.

The royal family seemed to regard the strange sorcery as a kind of blessing but, in the end, it turned out to be a veil separating the two boys. Then an energy shield, an abyss – and when they had _that_ real fight, the Force became a whole galaxy between them.

Poe exhaled at the sight of his office’s door, but the tension remained like a tightness in his chest. When he was finally safe inside, Poe allowed himself to crumple at his desk, holding his head with both hands, trying not to think about the past. It would do him no good. Poe’s mind wandered to the aftermath of that terrible fight. Behind Poe’s shut eyelids there was only Ben, panting and scared after wielding that immense power none of them fully comprehend – and, in his anger, having aimed it at his only friend.

It still hurt, after all that time.

Poe missed the days when Ben’s power was a thrilling novelty, a tool they could use to lift heavy stuff, to fetch toys they were too far away to grab by hand. Ben never even tried to show it off to other kids, treating his powers as their precious secret. But it only got scarier and more unpredictable with time, further isolating the prince. Suddenly, he was 14 years old, almost as tall as Poe, with an awkward face framed by the big ears other children secretly mocked. Poe was never mocked, with his tan skin and mirthful eyes.

Something beeped, loud and urgent, and Poe leapt from his seat as if it had caught fire.

“Beebee-Ate, you scared the shit out of me, buddy! I thought I’d locked the door,” Poe whined.

The little orange droid beeped a shocked response, chiding Poe because of the cursing.

“Yeah, yeah… sorry, but you could’ve announced yourself before sneaking in!”

BB-8 ignored that, and went straight to business, sharing the information provided by the royal family. Ben would land on a public spaceport at the outskirts of the capital, passing for a deep core merchant traveling alone and piloting his own ship: a super light freighter from Corelia, modest but sturdy. The prince already had codes to dock with this fake identity, and he had been informed an officer from the palace would escort him to an undisclosed location after they met.

BB-8 did not mention if Ben was aware the officer was going to be Poe himself. Probably not.

“Well, buddy, we still have a lot to do. Collect that civilian shuttle, the craft we used when the Queen wanted to travel incognito to the beach. Full tank. Yes, it got a hyperdrive, but we won’t be using it,” Poe said.

BB-8 nodded his one-eyed head with soft mechanical noises, sometimes beeping in approval as he listened to Poe’s instructions. He was more than Poe’s most prized possession: all those years made him a good friend. After finishing with the droid’s assignments, Poe watched it roll away to his duties, whirring and beeping, and remembered how he got BB-8 in the first place, a memory he usually kept hidden in a corner of his mind he dreaded to visit.

The round little astromech was a gift from Ben Solo.

A few months before he got Poe the droid, Ben had left public school and started taking classes at the palace, with private tutors. The boys drifted apart then, started seeing each other less and less. The prince became weary and sullen, but it was easy to dismiss Ben’s feelings as childish resentment, mere sulking, or even envy.

Poe was popular with all the kids, with his effortless charm and good-natured attitude, and it just seemed natural to want the company of older kids. Newly turned 18, he felt like a real grown-up. But what did he know? Poe assumed Ben would eventually find friends his own age and get on with his life, like a regular kid. But Ben Solo was no regular kid.

And Poe was just a boy, with zero wisdom in his head, determined to join the fleet’s academy to become a pilot and get his own ship, then leave Alderaan and go on crazy adventures before settling down. Space promised an excitement the palace life could never offer. Facing long hours of study and training, Poe’s time for the young prince turned scarcer than hair on a droid.

And each time they met, as infrequent as it became, Ben was there to accuse him of atrocious betrayals, negligence with the prince’s safety, and all kinds of inconsiderate behavior. Most of this accusations only made sense in Ben’s mind, of course. Ben started to sound like a resentful brat, then like a bitching mother.

At first, Poe would just listen to Ben, allow him to vent his frustration and then try to distract him. It kind of worked the first few times. But Ben seemed to have a special talent to annoy Poe, to push him over the edge with his constant whining and recrimination, and it wasn’t long before Poe was screaming back at Ben, pointing fingers, angrily leaving rooms and shutting doors.

They stopped speaking when Ben read Poe’s mind during one of those arguments. Ben saw another boy hidden there, with dark skin and a warm smile. When Ben screamed that other boy’s name, Poe felt like Ben had stolen something from inside his very soul. Poe got so angry he just turned and left Ben’s bedroom, didn’t even look back as Ben started to apologise, already too late.

As he walked away, Poe could hear objects swirling and bouncing back around the room, shattering against the walls. He shrugged and moved faster, but still heard Ben wailing like an injured animal.

Soon after that, Queen Leia herself summoned Poe and carefully asked him to go to Ben, to try and convince him to go back to school. The heir of the throne was supposed to complete his first years of formal studies among his people. It was tradition, and she couldn’t keep up with Ben hiding in his chambers any longer. She’d said she knew their friendship was suffering with Ben’s recent behavior. _He’s just going through a phase_ , she’d said as an excuse. Poe never even thought about saying no; he just braced himself not to think about the boy Ben had yanked from his mind.

Things did not go well.

Poe started pacing through his office, not wanting to remember, and yet not being able to stop thinking about how Ben had looked so calm that day. Those flashbacks were like a flood he’d been holding at bay for a decade, and all he could do now that they’d finally broken free was try to keep his head above the water, as he watched the unstoppable current of memories deluge around him.

Poe remembered seeing Ben from the corridor, through the open door of the prince’s quarters. Ben was sitting in the middle of the room, focused on the calligraphy set displayed on a low table in front of him. Writing with an actual pen on actual parchment paper made him look a thousand years old. Right after that thought crossed Poe’s mind, Ben glared at him, scowling. As if Poe had just said it out loud.

_What are you doing here?_

Ben had asked, slowly setting the pen inside a little bottle of ink, then clasping his hands on his lap, sitting back on his heels.

Poe threaded carefully into the room, saying he just wanted to talk. To tell Ben about being accepted at the academy. Perhaps make amends. And to understand why Ben wouldn't go back to school. Ben seemed hurt by all this, no matter how soft Poe had spoken.

 _Why are you mocking me?_ Ben asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Poe found himself saying sorry, even though he felt like he was the one who deserved an apology. Ah he talked, the room seemed to get charged with some weird energy, like being too close to a malfunctioning magnetic field. Poe knew what it was. Every hair in his body started to rise, and still Ben seemed eerily composed, not a hint of turmoil in his demeanor. As he raised to his full height, he didn’t look 14 years old anymore. He didn’t even look like he had a real age. He seemed more like the idea of a boy, a high definition hologram.

For a while, they just stood in silence, facing each other. And then Poe felt it, the start of a headache at the center of his forehead, right between his eyebrows. He stumbled backwards, his arms clumsily searching for a surface to lean on, but the pain got worse as fast as a jump to hyperspeed, piercing through him like a blaster shot. He sensed his skull being cracked open like an egg, and then an invisible spoon whisked its contents as if his brain was scrambled yolk. Poe wanted to vomit.

He managed to scream Ben’s name, begged for him to stop, and watched in horror as the other boy lifted a trembling hand, commanding Poe’s own feet to also lift from the floor. He finally realized Ben was breathing hard as well, hair tousled around his face, around his wet eyes, like this was an enormous effort from his part.

Every object in the room was clattering. The bottle of ink fell on top of the table, spilling a big black stain over the paper, obscuring Ben’s elaborate handwriting. Poe felt tears spilling from his eyes as well. Then an incorporeal hand grasped his throat, as the stirring in his head somehow got even more intense, until it stopped. Because Ben had found what he’d been looking for, despite Poe’s attempt to hide it.

It was nothing, a mere brushing of lips, under a tree, on a sunny day. Poe struggled not to think about the kiss, about the boy with whom he shared that brief moment, but Ben ripped it right off his mind. It was, of course, the dark skinned boy. His name was Finn.

 _I hate you!_ Ben screamed. _Traitor!_

And then he Force-pushed Poe against the wall like he was a toy. Once. Twice. After hitting the wall a third time, Poe slumped to the floor, indeed a doll made of flesh. When he hit the ground, his whole weight crumpled over his right arm; he felt bone snapping beneath his skin, and another kind of pain throbbed all the way up to his shoulder. Everything hurt like hell.

Poe still couldn’t remember every detail of what happened afterwards. Someone broke into the room and grabbed Ben from behind. Perhaps it was Leia. He could see Ben screaming, but the sounds got softer and muffled as his vision blurred. Poe tasted blood inside his mouth. His ribs seemed soft and weird when he tried to take a deep breath. Someone touched him, carefully holding his head. Perhaps it was commander Solo. When he woke up later, the first thing he saw was his own father concerned face. Then he smelled all the bacta.

He had to stay at the medcenter for three days. The royal family paid a visit at the second one. The queen and her husband came in first and apologised profusely, and as a matter of fact most of their justification was directed at Kes. They explained it was time for Ben to receive formal training regarding his special abilities. They never used the word “Force”. What took place in that afternoon was an unacceptable corruption of Ben’s mystic skills, Leia had said, and Ben’s Jedi uncle had been warned. The fabled Luke Skywalker was on his way to get the boy.

After making all that clear, the queen gently asked Poe if Ben could come in too, to say he was sorry. Poe just nodded.

Ben entered the room gazing to the floor, a tinge of nervous energy swirling around him: Poe imagined the last sparkles of firecrackers. That washed most of Poe’s anger away, but he still felt deeply scared and wounded. Ben looked like shit, like he’d crushed his own spirit when he smashed Poe against the wall of his royal bedroom, screaming and burning with uncontained rage, misusing his spiritual powers to desecrate Poe’s mind in a fit of jealousy. Anyway, Ben was followed by a little astromech, that Poe took for another medical droid.

They had an awkward talk; in fact, Ben did most of the talking, which is actually mumbled apologies, embarrassedly uttered in front of the three parents. Ben had dark circles around his eyes, who looked red and puffy like he’d been crying. Ben also said, almost whispering, that he would be leaving with Luke by the end of the week, and that Poe could come and say goodbye. Then Ben pointed at the droid.

 _It’s yours_ , he’d said. _If you want it._ _I’ve modified it myself, to suit you._

The orange ball rolled to Poe’s side and bumped softly against his bed, greeting him with short beeps. Poe heard himself exhaling, drained. He felt his heart pounding in his head. Ben looked so sad, and yet there was a flash of hope in his eyes, as if the droid could somehow fix everything. Ben was good with tinkering with droids, both boys were; and Ben knew Poe needed a good astromech at the academy. Poe tentatively reached out and patted the droid’s head, but did not say thank you.

The last time he saw Ben, Poe still had a bacta bandage around his aching arm and ribs, bone still healing. Ben looked as solemn and gloomy as ever at the top of the transport he shared with his uncle, carrying nothing but his calligraphy supplies packed in a leathery bundle. Poe wondered if that kid could ever become a Jedi, famous for being stoic and wise, always measured and calm. Master Skywalker was surrounded by that sageness as if it were a tangible aura. Ben just seemed a frightened child.

Poe finally sat again at his desk, exhausted, trembling. He let himself slump to his chair and tried to read something from his datapad, anything that could take his mind away from those memories. What the hell was he thinking, accepting this task? There was still time to talk to the queen and send someone else. Someone he could trust.

But there was no one he could trust when it came to Ben Solo.

And it’d been so long. They were both adults now. Fully grown men.

Strangers, actually. Two people who knew each other as kids, but hadn’t spoke in years, not even for an occasional, inconsequential holo greeting. A prince was coming home, and his captain was supposed to welcome him and show him his rightful domains, how things had changed in his absence: it was going to be an impersonal, respectful, distant meeting. Nothing else. No children’s antics this time.

Poe ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to think about an appropriate itinerary for this royal visit.

 _Get a grip, Dameron_ , Poe thought to himself before leaving his office hours later.

_Get a fucking grip._

* * *

The warning of the chrono isn’t enough to wake Poe up after a night of fitful sleep. BB-8 has to chime in and beep as if his circuits are frying in order to awaken his master. Poe jumps from his bed, bleary and surprised, and runs to take a shower. At least he isn’t late. He likes the water cold, and under the chilling spray Poe scolds himself for not waking up promptly like he’s been doing for years, a reflex earned from hard military training.

Fucking Ben Solo, messing with his mind already.

When Poe finishes dressing in civilian clothes, he takes a look in the mirror and realizes he forgot to shave. What the hell. Annoyed, he strips his light blue tunic before clearing the stubble off his face, then decides to wear his old pilot jumpsuit. It’s brown and inconspicuous; with the helmet on, no one will notice him. His wet hair clings to his forehead as he gathers his clothes and personal items in a backpack, calculating three days off with the prince.

By the time everything is packed, his hair has almost dried off, curling on top of his ears. He smoothes it with his hands and contemplates his bedroom, the rumpled sheets on the bed, the scattered clothing; but he doesn’t have the energy to organize things before leaving. He slept in his apartment near the palace, and his transport awaits at a small spaceport a few blocks down the street. Poe has never used the private hangar before. He’s got a speeder parked in front of his building, and he uses that to go to work everyday.

“Beebee-Ate, are you ready?” Poe asks, getting a torrent of lively beeps and whistles in response.

“Yes, I remember when he gave you to me. Come on, buddy,” Poe says, trying to sound indifferent as he swallows a bland protein flatbread down with a cup of caf. “Let’s go.”

It’s a beautiful day at the capital. The sun is shining but it’s not overtly warm, and there’s breeze flowing peacefully as Poe walks to the spaceport. He decides to put on the helmet just in case, and is glad when he doesn’t meet any neighbors in his way. BB-8 rolls quietly behind him, and both of them make it to the hangar without complications.

The trip to the major spaceport where Ben probably already awaits also goes by quietly, with no incidents. Poe has hired a dock there for a couple of hours, right next to the one Ben is using. Everything was set using fake identities. The sun is high, but the weather is still mild enough. It feels good to be piloting, and he leaves the helmet on. Poe concentrates on maneuvering the small craft throughout the designated air lanes, never actually approaching atmo, glad that there is almost no traffic.

He only feels anxiety surging up again when he is ready to land. When questioned, he barks his docking codes to the flight controller and immediately regrets it, only then realizing how nervous he really feels. BB-8 emits a concerned little beep.

“I’m fine, buddy. Just a little worried,” Poe says.

A few minutes and a short walk later, he is right in front of the corellian freighter. The ramp isn’t lowered, but there’s a tall man standing there, only a few meters away, his back turned to Poe. He seems to be checking the hull of his ship, showing something to a hovering droid tagged with the spaceport trademark. The man’s black hair is loose down his shoulders, so dark it shines against the white tunic he’s wearing cinched at his hips. He is all dressed in white, albeit a little weatherworn. Even his boots are made of a beige leather.

He doesn’t look like a merchant at all, much less one from the deep core, and Poe sighs audibly, glad that there’s only a droid there to notice the peculiar sartorial choices of Danfe Kachvar, the so-called trader Ben is supposed to be impersonating. The man turns as if Poe’s breathing has summoned him.

 _Stars, it’s really him,_ Poe thinks. He still looks so pale, and Poe wonders if the Jedi train only indoors. There is no sage quality about him, no Luke Skywalker aura of calmness, but there is something peaceful about Ben now, or at least not fearful, not frightened. The hovering droid speaks something in Basic, but Ben just waves a hand dismissively, looking straight to Poe.

Poe inhales deeply, takes off the helmet.

“Sir, the shuttle is ready,” Poe says, relieved that his voice didn’t falter, and that he was formal enough. “Welcome to Alderaan.”

Ben frowns subtly after hearing that, and Poe is immediately taken aback by how much that little twitch of eyebrows reminds him of young Ben. But he doesn’t let it show, and the scowl fades from Ben’s face.

“It’s still me, you can call me Ben,” he says very softly, not like an offering and more as a plea. His voice is so different, and yet so familiar, like a favorite dish cooked by someone else.

Poe smirks, and it’s half genuine, half a way to conceal the tension.

“I’m sorry, _mister_ _Kachvar_?” Poe asks, his own eyebrows raising like a warning.

Ben looks startled, like he just remembered the farce he should’ve been playing all along.

“I… I have some luggage inside the ship, I’ll go get it,” Ben says and goes to the ramp, typing at the hull. The ramp doesn’t come down at first, so he has to punch the control panel. A slight malfunction. Poe bites his lower lip, hoping this isn’t a sign of forthcoming trouble. He turns to BB-8.

“Hey, buddy, lose the hover droid, will ya?” Poe asks, as he goes to the ramp as well. He almost runs into Ben inside the ship. Now that they’re this close, Poe can fully realize how tall the prince has become. He has to look up to face Ben, who takes a few steps backwards, like he is suddenly wary of Poe. The skinny, gangly kid is now a broad-shouldered man, and everything about him looks big: his nose, his hands, his feet; even the tip of his ears, poking out from the curtain of raven hair. He looks impressive, strong, all gawkiness gone, replaced by something Poe can only think of as the poise of a warrior. Poe can’t imagine anyone mocking Ben now.

“May I help you with anything?” Poe asks.

Ben blinks a few times before answering, seemingly regarding Poe as well.

“No, this is pretty much everything,” Ben says, pointing to the big rucksack he’s carrying. “Not very fitting for a merchant, I’m afraid. But thank you.”

“Do you still practice with calligraphy?” Poe asks, not knowing what else to say. But that makes Ben smile, and the smile makes his narrow eyes a little brighter. Poe’s heart seems to respond to that, beating a little faster, and he clutches at his helmet, perhaps to balance himself from some inner tremor he can’t quite make out, as if the ship has moved somehow.

“Yes. I can show it to you. Later,” Ben says. Then he completes: “if you want me too.”

“We’ll have time for that,” Poe says, nodding towards the entrance of the ship. “But we better go, now. We don’t want people recognizing you.” Poe deliberately withholds a vocative. He doesn’t want to say Ben’s name out loud, but calling him “master Jedi” or “prince” doesn’t sound right, either.

“You can call me Ben. Just Ben. I meant that,” Ben says.

Poe glares at him, his feelings curling up in his gut, curdling into anger.

“Don’t read my mind,” Poe says, bitterly.

“I wasn’t, I… at this point, I just sense some things. It’s like an insight, I can explain,” Ben says, his face falling. “I promise you I’m not doing anything like that. I’m sorry!”

He sounds earnest.

When they leave the ship, the hover droid has disappeared from view, and BB-8 greets them with impatient little beeps. Ben types a security code on the panel, locking the freighter. Poe will have someone collecting it in a few cycles. Ben and BB-8 just follow Poe as he starts walking back to the other docking cell, the droid still beeping briskly, asking if Ben remembers assembling him.

“Beebee-Ate, leave him alone. You’re speaking too fast,” Poe says, without turning to look at them. He’s trying not to let that anger grow and spoil everything.

“That’s fine,” Ben says. “Of course I remember. I’m glad Poe has kept you all those years.”

BB-8 whistles and bleeps, clearly delighted.

“Yes, you can show me all the modifications Poe has made,” Ben replies.

Their conversation fades into a background noise to Poe’s flustered thoughts. He didn’t want to take Ben to a hotel, and neither wanted the prince in his own apartment. So, unless Ben has other plans, Poe will take them to the house Kes own in the suburbs, vacant now that Poe’s father is off planet with his second wife, traveling and enjoying his retirement. Old Kes won’t be returning until next month. And at least things aren’t as bad as Poe had anticipated. He didn’t feel Ben inside his thoughts, but the insight thing was creepy enough.

Back at the shuttle, Poe accommodates Ben’s frugal luggage next to his, and suggests he takes the co-pilot seat. Ben politely refuses the water and the protein crackers Ben offers him. After everybody is safe in their seatbelts, Ben sighs.

“I guess my mother has told you I wanted to go anonymous for a few days,” Ben starts. “But I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go, now. Definitely not the palace.”

Poe nods.

“Well, I was thinking about taking you to my father’s house. In the suburbs. He won’t be there, of course,” Poe says. “And, if you wanna be left alone, I can stay at the fleet’s base nearby.”

“Sounds good. But you can stay with me. I mean, in the house. It’s your father’s house, after all,” Ben says.

“I guess we can decide on that when we get there. It won’t take long.”

“Okay.”

They stay quiet for a while, not even BB-8 breaking the awkward silence. Poe goes into pilot mode again, zeroing on the ship’s control panel, turning on the engines and talking to the spaceport personnel. He sends an encrypted message to Leia’s comlink channel, informing of the prince’s arrival. He’ll send coordinates later.

The trip is indeed fast. They dock their shuttle at another spaceport, this one smaller but more crowded. Before they leave the ship, Poe takes a good look at Ben. With his height, his bulk, and his worn down clothes, of course he might draw unwanted attention. Poe huffs.

“What?” Ben asks with a pleading look, and Poe wonders if he is truly clueless, or just pretending not to have attained new _insights_.

“Do you have something we can use to disguise you? Like a cowl? I don’t know, you look too…” Poe starts, and Ben finishes:

“Conspicuous?”

“Yeah. You’re probably the tallest human on this planet,” Poe says, smirking, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ben goes to his rumpsack, and grabs something inside it. It’s a very worn robe, probably white years ago, now gray and actually fraying at the edges. It has a hood, and it covers most of Ben’s face. Poe snorts.

“Well, now you look like a Jedi, minus the lightsaber.”

“I _do_ have a lightsaber.”

“Okay, but let’s not use it. No weapons that can identify you. Anyway, I guess you’re big enough to pass as not-human. Maybe if you tuck your hair inside…”

Ben’s hair is cascading down his collarbones, obviously apparent.

“Oh. I’ve been meaning to cut it, but. Perhaps you could help me arrange a haircut?” Ben sounds apologetic as he lowers the hood and improvises a ponytail. Poe smiles fondly at the sight of Ben’s ears. Ben’s face turns into a light shade of pink, and that’s Poe very own insight into Ben’s self-consciousness.

“I guess I’ve never really grown into them. The ears, I mean.”

“I can cut your hair. I’m good with that, been cutting mine for years,” Poe says, deliberately ignoring the ear talk.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

Poe watches Ben’s attempt to conceal his more human features inside the cloak. At one point, Poe reaches to fix Ben’s hood, and the taller man has to bend down to help him. It’s as embarrassing as it is endearing, Poe thinks. When he is satisfied with the results, they finally leave the ship. They will have to take a public hovertrain to get to the house, but that’s part of the plan.

Poe wants Ben to see the city; even as a boy, he rarely left the palace - a drawback from being royalty. Poe doesn’t know how much of the galaxy Ben has seen as a Jedi in training. Actually, he doesn’t know much about Jedi culture at all. When they were young, Ben talked a lot about the Jedi, but mostly of lightsabers and battles. They watched some Clone Wars footage available on holos, and Poe admits everything was pretty impressive, but not as much as space battles. Poe was born to fly.

He leaves his helmet on. The streets aren’t as busy as the spaceport, but they get a few suspicious looks on their way to the hovertrain platform. It’s just the suburbs, Poe thinks. Nothing particularly aimed at them. People just aren’t as familiarized with strangers as the inner city residents.

They take the train with five more passengers, three male humans and a twi’lek mother and child. No one talks, and nobody seems to care about the others. Poe doesn’t mind, this trip will take no more than twenty minutes. He sits across from Ben, and lets his head rest against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. When Poe tunes off most of the stimuli from the outside world, Ben’s presence seems to grow on him. It’s a strange awareness, like a change in his interior temperature. It doesn’t look like something Ben is doing on purpose, though, and is actually rather soothing. It reminds him of when they were little children, and Ben followed him around.

Poe regrets opening his eyes and losing this feeling when BB-8 beeps to warn they’ve arrived at their station. The house is just down the street, the last one of a row of ten equal houses. The street is empty, and the sun shines through the chinar trees who adorn the other side of the sidewalk. Their scent is heavy on the air, hot and spicy.

“I guess it’s better if you leave your robe until we get in the house,” Poe says. Ben nods without looking at him, probably gazing at the trees, or at the snowy mountains far away in the horizon, glowing under the sun.

At his father’s doorstep, Poe types more clearance codes to the panel that secures the house. He had droids cleaning everything the cycle before, and refurbishing the pantry. Once inside, he is glad to notice the service has been done accordingly. The place looks pristine, even better than the last time he visited Kes.

There is a small vestibule adorned with plants and a bench. Poe leaves his backpack and his helmet there, and gestures for Ben to enter. BB-8 already barged into the place like he owns it. Ben looks ridiculously gigantic inside his Jedi cloak, yet also kind of menacing, obscured against the sunlight that enters through the open door.

“Close the door behind you,” Poe says.

Something tingles in Poe’s arms, like tiny spiders creeping beneath his skin; at the same time, the door closes on its own, softly. It’s been years since Poe last saw the Force being used, and he shudders. Ben lowers his hood, clearly afraid he’s done something wrong. He takes a step towards Poe, then halts.

“I’m so sorry, I -”

Poe interrupts him.

“That’s okay. I’m assuming it’s like a reflex to you.”

“Yes, most of the time. I don’t mean to scare you, Poe.”

It’s the first time Poe listens Ben say his name. He is not scared.

“I’m wary, that’s all. I’m sure you’ve trained a lot, and you’re able to control it now. Right, buddy?”

Ben frowns again, probably at being called buddy, and it’s even more imperceptible than the first time. Poe smiles his best smile, not knowing where that _buddy_ thing came from, and regretting it.

“Right,” Ben mumbles.

“Well, I’ll show you the place and take you to your room. Come.”

Ben follows him through the living and dining room, which is large, with two green sofas and a big reclining chair. There’s a holotable between the sofas, so people can watch it from every angle. There are rugs on the walls, depicting alderaniaan folklore. They’re from Poe’s stepmother, who teaches alderaniaan history. There’s a black rectangular table behind the biggest sofa, with six chairs, and an old cupboard with tableware. An archway beside it leads to the kitchen. Poe points that to Ben.

They reach a corridor that has two doors on each side, and leads to a refresher. The doors on the left are closed.

“This is my father’s bedroom, and his study,” Poe says, pointing at the closed doors. “The first room on the right is the guest room, so go ahead, make yourself comfortable. I usually stay at the room next to it. As you can see, the ‘fresher is at the end of the hallway.”

Ben nods. He enters the room and Poe leans on the doorway, watching as Ben leaves his rucksack on a chair, then removes and folds his grayish robe.

“So, where is that lightsaber you’ve mentioned?” Poe asks.

Ben grins, looking suddenly very young and self-assured. Without taking his eyes from Poe, Ben extends his hand towards the rucksack, and the bag wobbles as something zips out of it and rushes through the air right to Ben’s fingers. He powers the thing up and the room shines with a blue glow. Poe’s heart skips a beat. Ben looks glorious, the weapon humming in his grip.

“Wow, that was… you look just like those Jedi from the holos…”

“Are you scared?” Ben asks, still beaming though, the blue blade reflected in his eyes.

“No, no, just… please don’t burn anything…” Poe says.

Ben powers the lightsaber down and rolls the handle in his hand skilfully, showing off. Then he offers it to Poe.

“Would you like to touch it?”

Poe cautiously grabs the thing. It really is beautiful, a metallic cylinder carefully craft by hand. It looks like the perfect mix of technology and ancient knowledge. He knows there’s a crystal inside it, but he can see it. Poe experiments the weapon in his hand, but he hasn’t got Ben’s dexterity. It feels clumsy and heavy in his grip.

“I guess I’m better with a blaster,” Poe says, giving the lightsaber back. Ben wrinkles his nose, then smirks.

“That’s not very elegant of you.”

“Hey, I’m no Jedi. I’m just a soldier. Are you hungry?”

Ben twirls the lightsaber again, then clips it to his belt.

“No. Are you tired? Maybe you could, um… do the hair thing? So I can take a shower afterwards?”

“Oh, okay” Poe says, scratching his head. “Just wait for me in the fresher, I’ll go get the scissors and some, you know, supplies.”

Poe usually cuts his father’s hair, too, so he quickly assembles everything. When he gets to the fresher, Ben is already sitting at the small bench Kes uses.

“This refresher is bigger then my whole room at Luke’s school,” Ben says, peering at himself on the mirror.

“Well, it certainly ain’t bigger than your palace’s facilities,” Poe says, turning Ben to face him, and arranging a plastic cape around Ben’s shoulders, to catch the falling hair. Cloaking him again. “It must have been hard on you, to leave all those riches behind and go live like, I don’t know, an austere monk?”

Ben looks thoughtful.

“It was hard. At first. To leave desires and attachments behind, to concentrate on what is essential and relinquish the superfluous. But then you start appreciating the things you’re left with, and you realize you don’t need much to be truly satisfied. Now I wonder if I’ll ever truly fit inside a palace again.”

“You do sound like a Jedi,” Poe says, a little startled by Ben’s speech.

“How many Jedi have you listened to?” Ben asks.

Poe doesn’t answer, and uses the little flask he is holding to spray some water at Ben’s head. His dark hair is smooth on Poe’s fingers, almost as soft as it were when they were kids. Poe combed it a few times back then, when it was a boring task. Now it feels surprisingly enjoyable. Anyway, he avoids touching Ben’s skin, although he doesn’t understand why.

“So, how long do you want it?”

“I don’t know. My chin?” Ben says, looking hopefully at Poe.

“I guess your chin will be fine. I’ll cut you a fringe.”

“A what?”

Poe smirks. “Just trust me.”

Poe works in silence. Sometimes he crosses eyes with Ben, and they both pretend they’re more relaxed than they actually feel. In reality, Poe has no Force-assisted insights to corroborate that, but he thinks he is good at reading people, and Ben looks unguarded nevertheless, almost eager to be figured out. Poe tries not to think about it. He doesn’t want to unravel Ben Solo, just to give the man a decent haircut. He focuses on getting everything even, the hair behind Ben’s neck, the strands just so that Ben’s big ears stay hidden. Not that Poe dislikes them. The ears, the crooked nose, the little dark spots on Ben’s white skin: they make Ben unique.

“I think I’m done. Not to be smug, but you look great. More like a prince, now,” Poe says. “Go on, turn to look in the mirror.”

Ben turns and seems stunned when he checks himself in the refresher’s mirror. He runs his hand through his damp hair, oblivious to the mess he’s making when he lifts the plastic cape.

“That looks… really good. You’re very good at this. Thank you,” Ben says, still admiring himself.

“Perhaps you can thank me by helping with all this hair on the floor,” Poe says. “I’m gonna go get a broom or something.”

When Poe is back with a dustpan and a brush, Ben already sweeped the floor somehow, and all the hair is neatly piled against a corner.

“I just used the Force. Luke wouldn’t approve, though,” Ben says, shrugging, grinning again, looking like the carefree teenager he actually never were.

“I see. You may as well finish it, then,” Poe says, handing Ben the utensils. “You can take a shower afterwards, there are clean towels in your room. I’ll take one myself, in my dad’s suite. Then I’ll cook something.”

Poe doesn’t wait for Ben’s reply. When he locks himself inside his father’s bedroom, he is breathing hard. BB-8 beeps outside, and he shushes him.

“Can’t I just take a shower? Go check the house’s electrical systems!” He shouts at the droid.

Something is already happening, and it’s been only a few hours. Poe thinks about Finn. How a couple of years ago they ended up together for more than a year, and how he’s been alone ever since. It doesn’t seem like an appropriate thought, but then so this new Ben Solo doesn’t seem like an appropriate Ben Solo. At all.

Poe snorts. _For star’s sake, Dameron! Get a fucking grip!_

* * *

Poe is sitting at the table looking at a glass of water he just poured to himself when Ben leaves the refresher, again dressed in white, but this time barefoot. He wears a longer tunic and loose pants, an ill-fitting attire that looks like sleepwear. Poe hopes those are his Jedi pajamas, cause there’s no way he’d let Ben leave the house dressed like that. When he gets closer, Poe notices he smells like a forest, like leaves and trees and earth; and wonders what brand of bathing products he is using. Probably some Jedi mystic potion. Poe wants to snort at that stupid thought, but manages to stay put.

Ben looks at him puzzled, and sits at the other end of the table.

“I thought you were going to cook. Need some help?” Ben asks.

“There’s a pasta dish at the oven. We were just waiting for you, so Beebee-Ate can turn the oven on to melt the cheese,” Poe says, nodding for BB-8 to go into the kitchen. “It’s not very refined, though, I’m sorry. Are you wearing pajamas?”

Ben grins, and his easy smile is starting to grow on Poe, warm and sweet. He should’ve been like that when they were younger, but maybe things needed to go that bad in order for Ben to leave with Skywalker, and learn a way to shed the burden he seemed to carry in his formerly bony shoulders.

“I’m afraid I don’t have many clothes. The ones I took with me when I left home stop fitting years ago. I sensed we were not going to leave the house today, so,” Ben points at himself: “jammies.”

Poe smirks. He is dressed with the tunic he was going to wear before deciding for the jumpsuit. His shirt in tucked inside brown pants, and the pants are tucked in his black boots. Poe doesn’t care for civilian wear.

“I’m sure every tailor on Alderaan will be more than willing to make the finest garments for our returning prince,” Poe says, gesturing extravagantly for flourish. That’s a game they’ve played before, and Ben laughs.

“Oh, I see you haven’t changed, young Dameron.”

“But I’m glad you have, young Solo.”

Ben stares at him, his lips still curled up.

“I know,” Ben says after a while, with a serious demeanor now. Poe swallows. Something stirs inside his chest, there’s a flutter in his heart, in his lungs; an unbalance of sorts. He’s been taken off guard again and again, and it feels like flying his fighter across a storm of unfamiliarity that suddenly meets an air-pocket of awkward closeness. It’s dizzy, and heady, and he feels his breath getting faster even though he’s just sitting at his father’s table.

Ben is still staring at him, his gaze intense and very grown up. Poe reminds himself Ben is 26 years old. But he’s also his prince, the future king of Alderaan. And a mind-reader. And a fucking Jedi! He forbids his mind to wonder about how the Jedi deal with romantic liaisons, or liaisons of any sort.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Poe finally asks, to dispel whatever is happening between them, and this time his voice falters a little.

Ben swallows too, audibly. He licks his lips and inhales. Poe feels painfully aware of all these small gestures, and he has to look away from Ben.

“Water is fine,” Ben says. Poe passes him the glass, and resists watching Ben drink.

“Do you drink alcohol? I mean, can Jedi drink?”

Ben finishes the water before answering.

“Jedi are not forbidden to partake anything. It’s all a matter of parsimony.”

Ben has got that intense look again, so familiar but at the same time also completely new, and Poe leaves the room without saying anything. He goes straight to the kitchen, to the small bottle of toniray wine he found earlier, while inspecting the pantry. Kes will never drink this, so he puts it to chill in the conservator. Poe yearns for a hard drink, since everything in this day already feels like something that will leave him hungover. He already feels a little drunk, anyway.

Their early dinner is equal parts domestic and surreal, and Poe stays quiet through most of it, leaving the talking to Ben and to BB-8. Ben has quite an appetite, and he tells how he missed childhood foods like this, noodles with cheese, creamy and buttery. Everything was pretty bland at Jedi school, and when he got to travel around the galaxy, he was too preoccupied with politics and such matters to enjoy local cuisine.

Poe thinks of his time at the Academy, eating army rations. Sometimes he misses even that tasteless food.

“I’d never took you for a cook,” Ben says, serving himself the last portion of pasta, long after Poe has finished.

“I’m not, actually. I just know my way around a kitchen so I won’t starve, nor spend the rest of my life eating some rehydrated protein gunk. What about you?”

“I’ve learned how to hunt things and cook them in the wild, but I’d probably be living off rehydrated gunk if I was left alone in a kitchen.”

“Ah. So you haven’t change that much.”

Ben smirks, and something coils inside Poe’s chest. Then BB-8 announces, in fast binary, that the wine is chilled.

“I’ll go get it,” Poe says.

Kes doesn’t have the proper crystal flutes to serve toniray, but Poe knows Ben won’t mind to drink it from a tall glass. He brings the bottle to the table inside a bowl of ice, and serves two glasses of the teal-colored wine. Ben looks elated at the little bubbles in his beverage.

“I’ve never had it before. Mother wouldn’t let,” Ben says.

“You could’ve had it behind her back. Secretly.” _With me_ , Poe doesn’t say, but he’s sure Ben has heard it, at least as an intuition.

“I guess at some point I became too dull for you. Too conservative,” Ben says, toying with his glass, perhaps still afraid to drink it without the queen’s permission.

“Well, you were a kid practicing calligraphy and I wanted to practice going to parties,” Poe says with a smile, then drinks the wine. It’s delicious, even though it doesn’t go with the noodles. But that doesn’t matter when the crispy, efervescent liquid melts against his tongue. Toniray is quite strong, he didn’t remember.

Ben peeks at him, and decides to drink the wine, too. His face flushes while he’s gulping it, and Poe wonders how much liquor the Jedi usually partake.

“Don’t go too fast,” Poe warns him.

Ben glares at him, still blushing.

“I’m not a child, I can handle it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t a light beverage, that’s all.”

Ben finishes his glass, and Poe notices that his eyes got a little pink at the corners, probably from all the sparkles in the wine. But he doesn’t say anything when Ben pours himself a second drink. Perhaps both of them will have a hangover in the morning.

After finishing a third full glass, Ben relaxes in his chair, crosses his long arms over his chest.

“So, um. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did my mother tell you I wanted you to pick me up?”

Poe considers the question. He is more surprised by the fact that Ben’s voice isn’t slurred than by the confirmation that he personally chose Poe as his designated pilot.

“No. But I kinda figured it out.”

“I wanted to know if you had forgiven me. For that day.”

Ben is looking straight to Poe, as if trying to hypnotize him.

No, as if Poe is the one doing this magic. Poe doesn’t know how to answer, but realizes it wasn’t a question when Ben keeps talking.

“I knew you did, when I saw you still had the droid. I felt so relieved.”

Poe nods, shrugs. “You were just a child.”

“Not every Force-user is a mind reader. At first, I didn’t know where those thoughts that weren’t mine were coming from. I only realized they were other people’s when I heard your voice, in my head. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… you know. Pried. But I wanted so much to please you.”

Ben’s voice breaks; his eyes are red, now. He runs a hand through his hair, exhales.

“I knew you didn’t want… to be with me. Like I wanted to be with you. I mean, you had your older friends, and I. I couldn’t even taste some wine behind my mother’s back.” He smiles, but it’s sad and a little desperate, all this revelation obviously coached by the toniray.

“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve been meaning to tell you all these things for years.”

“I asked you not to read my mind,” Poe says, but he’s not really angry now. He knows Ben tried to contact him via holo calls a few times, but he was away too, at the Academy, then traveling with the fleet.

“I wasn’t! I mean. I guess this wine does expand your consciousness or something.”

Poe can’t suppress a laugh.

“I wonder how you’d react to actual drugs.”

Ben’s eyes go wide.

“Don’t worry, I’m too old for that, and you’re too square.”

Ben pouts. “I’m not square. And I’m almost your age.”

Poe sighs. The bottle is almost empty, so he decides to finish it before Ben goes fully drunk. He pours himself one last drink, sips from it.

“You’re almost my age indeed.”

The sun is starting to set, and the house goes dark. BB-8 has to turn on the lights when neither Poe nor Ben care to leave their chairs. At some point, Ben yawns and excuses himself from the table. Poe lets him go without words. This will be a long night.

After cleaning their dishes, Poe goes to his father’s suite. He doesn’t want to occupy the room next to Ben’s: having only a wall between them doesn’t seem enough. He checks his comm, and sends Leia their coordinates. He knows the palace won’t send anyone, specially now that Ben apparently confessed to having arranged for Poe’s company through this interlude, or whatever this is. Poe doesn’t know anymore, if he ever did.

After the night has fallen, BB-8 invades the suite and bumps against the bed, beeping calmly this time. He informs that Ben Solo, prince of Anderaan and second organic in the house, is asleep.

“Beebee-Ate, you can’t spy on him, what the hell?” Poe whispers. The droid beeps loudly, offended somehow.

“Don’t scream at me! Who told you to go into his room? What? He’s in the living room?”

It’s true. Wen Poe goes to check, Ben is sleeping in the biggest sofa, shirtless, his gigantic feet hanging at the armrest. He seems uncomfortable, and Poe approaches very slowly, in the dark, the only light coming from his father's room. Poe touches Ben’s shoulder softly, and he sits up immediately, rubbing his eyes. He seems startled for a moment, then stares at Poe.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Poe asks.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, when I’m very tired, this happens,” Ben mumbles.

“What happens?” But then Poe remembers Ben used to sleepwalk. It didn’t occur very often, but specially busy days seemed to trigger this behavior. “That’s okay. I’ll help you.”

He pulls at Ben’s left arm. It feels warm and solid under Poe’s fingers, and when Ben reaches his full height he looks massive compared to Poe’s slight frame. Ben is too tired to guard his powers, and touching him is like holding bare electric wires together. Poe shivers and his whole body tingles, the same way it did when Ben closed the door with the Force, only a hundred times stronger. He feels so weak, so small, yet Ben lets Poe guide him to the guest room with childlike trust, as if Ben were in fact the most vulnerable of them. Is some ways, he is.

When they reach the door, Poe tries to let go of Ben, but is surprised when Ben tugs at him with his other hand, pressing Poe’s shoulder against the doorframe. The light from Kes’s room gives Ben a dramatic appearance, or maybe Poe is overstating things because of the wine. Poe decides he is not: Ben’s eyes and hair look so dark, as if he is emerging from the night itself; and the shadows accentuate his muscles, while softening everything else. Ben stares at Poe longingly, and his mouth is so close, lips wet and parted.

But then BB-8 bumps against their legs, trying to get into Ben’s room for some inscrutable reason, and it casts off any magic that may or may not have been concocted by the half-light. Ben takes a step back and lets the the droid rolls past them, then just hugs Poe without warning.

Poe still can smell the mysterious Jedi forest inside Ben’s embrace, subtler but now mixed with Ben’s natural smell. It’s overwhelming. He closes his eyes when he feels Ben arching his back, hiding his head at Poe’s shoulder, seemingly lost in Poe’s scent as well. He can hear when Ben takes a deep breath, and then he is gone, entering the guest room, closing the door.

Poe is left wavering, trembling with unfulfilled need, a raw yearning he hasn’t felt since he were a teenager who longed to be among the stars. It aches, a dull pain he knows he won’t be able to alleviate, whose only medicine is right across the door. He thinks about knocking, about bursting through that damned door, but something stops him, and he drags himself to his father’s room, to his father’s bed, and denies himself any illusory relief.

* * *

Poe wakes with BB-8 staring silently at him. When he peers at the droid, it just beeps the exact hour. It’s way past breakfast time. Poe isn’t exactly hungover, but his head feels hollow and he doesn’t want to get up. He makes himself go to the fresher and takes an icy cold shower, lamenting the morning schedule he screwed up. He only has one more day to show Ben the capital.

When he leaves Kes’s room, Ben’s door is still closed. Poe goes to the kitchen to make fresh caf. The hot beverage infuses some life into him, and by the time he decides they should have sandwiches for lunch, he already feels like himself again. He is picking fillings at the conservator when he listens Ben’s door opening, then the hallway refresher’s door closing.

Ben appears in the living room some time later, hair dripping wet, dressed in his regular Jedi clothes, down to the beige boots. The lightsaber dangles in his belt. Poe is quiet, drinking his second mug of caf, a half-eaten sandwich on a plate in front of him. Ben sits in silence, takes a loaf of bread and stares at it for a second, then decides to spread jam on it.

“Would you like some caf?” Poe asks.

“Yes. Black, please.”

Poe watches Ben eat three sandwiches in a row, each one with an increasingly bizarre combination of fillings. When he is assembling the fourth one, Poe can’t hold a question any longer.

“So we’re back to not talking again?”

Ben looks confused.

“What? No. You were right, the wine was too strong. My head hurts and I’m famished.”

“How was your night?”

“Weird. Restless. What about yours?”

“Slept like a baby.”

Ben looks at him skeptically, but doesn’t say anything and ravages two more sandwiches before deciding he’s full. Then he goes to his room and comes back with a leather scroll, bigger than the one he was carrying when he left Alderaan.

“I’d like to show you this.”

They sit side by side at the sofa and Ben unfastens the scroll that preserves his papers. Ben’s calligraphy has become exquisite, even Poe’s untrained eyes cannot help but notice it. There are also drawings, depicting all sorts of agrarian landscapes, plants, animals; and portraits, too, of beings of different species. The best one is of Luke Skywalker standing near a stone hut; Ben drawn it in charcoal except for his uncle’s expressive blue eyes, that shine like living things and seem to radiate from the paper. Everything is so beautiful Poe feels humbled and amazed.

“Stars, you’re a true artist,” Poe says, looking at the carefully shaded horns of a smiling zabrak girl. She is hugging another girl, human, with the hair up in three little buns painstakingly drawn till the tiniest hair strands. “Who are those girls?”

“Other apprentices. Milla is the zabrak, Rey is the human.”

Poe admires Ben’s work, then carefully helps him pack it up again.

They talk about their training, Poe at the Academy, Ben with the Jedi. Then they talk about galactic politics, about Leia’s chances for the Senate, Han Solo having to move to Coruscant with her, Kes Dameron’s second wife. They talk lengthy about Ben becoming the king, which Ben admits is deeply frightening. They talk about food, about spaceships, about art, and about dirty jokes.

Ben speaks solemnly about the search for a kyber crystal for his lightsaber, and how he constructed it using only the Force. Poe tells him about taking his father’s place as chief of security, the fear he might not be good enough. Poe even tells Ben about Finn, and Ben wrinkles his nose like he tasted something pretty sour, but then laughs and listens attentively, only to confess he doesn’t feel qualified to give advice on romantic matters. Poe replies he doesn’t want any advice, that Finn is in the past. Ben smirks.

They talk to each other for hours, and by the time they realize they’re hungry again, it’s already sunset. They eat the rest of the sandwiches, and ice cream made of some unidentified berry. Ben licks the bowl, apologising and explaining he hasn’t had ice cream in years. There’s still one thing on Poe’s itinerary that can be done today, though, so he takes Ben to his father’s garage, where there’s a vintage landspeeder with two seats.

“Come, I’m taking you to the see the lights,” Poe says.

“The lights?”

“You’ll understand when we get there.”

They take the same path of the hovertrain, but through the highway for terrain vehicles. They’re going against the traffic of the workday, leaving the suburbs, reaching the outskirts of the capital. When they’re approaching the spaceport where their shuttle is docked, Ben seems to understands what Poe meant: the city is a sea of neon in the distance, a kaleidoscopic mess of window lights, immense holo-billboards, nightlife blinking signposts.

Poe drives up a steep hill, and on top of it there’s an abandoned platform. The view is amazing. Poe parks the speeder and jumps away from it, goes straight to the railing and sits there, as close as possible to the visual cacophony. His tan skin glows in countless shades of colorful light. Ben jumps to the other side of the grid and leans against the railing, so close Poe smells his luxuriant and exotic arboreal scent. Everything looks hazy and iddylic, like a dream.

Despite the myriad of glowing colors, this part of the road is quiet. They hear the wind, the night critters, and the distant sound of traffic. After a few minutes, or maybe a couple of hours, Poe isn’t sure anymore, Ben speaks.

“I never knew a place like this existed so close to where I lived half my life.”

“This is one of my favorite places in the galaxy. There’s a fleet base nearby, that’s how I found it.”

Ben turns and looks to Poe.

“Have you ever brought anyone else here?” There’s a hint of jealousy in Ben's voice, an echo of that day more than a decade ago.

Poe gazes at him, then reaches out and grabs Ben’s hand, boldly.

“No. But what if I have? Jealousy is pointless, it’s just us now. The past doesn’t matter anymore, and the future is still about to happen.”

Ben seems satisfied by this answer, and he turns to admire the lights. He holds Poe’s hand tighter. The first drops of rain find them like that, and they run to the landspeeder before it becomes a storm.

* * *

The trip back to the house is quiet and swift, and by the time they set foot inside it, they cannot avoid what is building between them. Ben is shivering, but he’s not even wet from the rain. This is something else. He looks at Poe as if the pilot is the answer to his every question, and Poe is thrilled and scared and proud to be gazed upon with such fervor by someone so powerful.

“What do you want?” Poe asks in a low voice, as if someone might hear them and find out about their secrets. Ben steps closer, slow but relentless until he’s pinned Poe against the wall. Ben looks so good. Poe has to lift his head to peek at Ben’s eyes, but he refuses to stand on his toes. It doesn’t matter: Ben bends down towards him and eagerly presses his full lips to Poe’s. It feels insanely good, just this, being so close, hidden and dwarfed by much bigger arms. Poe wonders why it took so long for him to realize that’s what they should have been doing all along. Ben is hot, sweltering, and Poe grabs him by his ears and deepens the kiss, relishing the wetness of Ben’s mouth, his mellow tongue, the occasional graze of his teeth.

When he finally releases Ben, Poe can hear the prince gasp, astonished, spellbound. He swoops down for another kiss, squeezing Poe harder against the wall.

“I want you,” Ben whispers, breathless, when Poe ducks away from the kiss. “Please.”

He grabs Ben’s hand and leads him to his own room. His bed is bigger, and he locks the door so BB-8 can’t enter. Poe doesn’t want to be interrupted. He prompts Ben to sit on his low bed, which finally makes Poe taller than him, and kisses Ben with renewed want. Somehow, he can sense that Ben has never been kissed like this before, so wantonly desired. He caresses Ben’s neck with both hands, pulls him closer, tilting Ben’s head for the perfect angle. Ben holds Poe by his waist, so tight it almost hurts.

Poe takes a step back, panting, and glances at the other man. Ben looks so handsome now, his face flushed, his lips puffy from all the kissing, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing reverently at Poe. He wants to feel Ben’s skin, so he takes off his tunic, kicks off his boots and his pants. Poe is naked and very ready for whatever might happen. Ben’s breath quickens, and he gets up from the bed and undresses hurriedly, then sits again, hesitantly touching himself. Poe licks his lips when he sees this, glad that Ben can’t wait, but willing to make this last a little longer.

Poe touches Ben’s chest, caresses his bare arms, lets his hands fall to Ben's stomach, than lower, lower, until he replaces Ben’s big hand with his own. Ben is transfixed, until it seems too much, and he grabs Poe and puts him sitting on his lap, shoves his tongue inside his mouth with barely contained violence. Poe allows it, revelling at the friction and all the hardness, than laughs at the back of his throat.

“So much for the stoicism of the Jedi,” he says, looking straight into Ben’s eyes.

Ben grunts as this primordial energy seems to take hold of him, sparkling around his hair again, seeping into Poe like an offer Ben isn’t aware he’s making. Ben lays Poe across the bed, than climbs on top of him, one hand at each side of Poe’s head, effectively holding him in place for another desperate kiss. When Poe turns his head to breath, Ben licks his jawline, his neck, bites Poe’s earlobe. Then Ben sits back, caressing Poe’s thighs, and finally touching Poe's erection with a firm grip, drawing the most perfect moan from Poe as his hand goes up and down.

“I’m too close, Ben. So close…” Poe’s voice cracks, but he has to finish his sentence. “I want you inside me. So fucking much. Come here.”

Poe lets a trickle of salive run down from his mouth into his fingers. He knows it might not be ideal, Ben is big everywhere, but it’s too late for him to bother. He slicks his entrance, then repeats it with Ben’s cock, thinking about having it in his mouth later.

Ben watches everything completely mesmerized.

“Go on, you should be helping me,” Poe coaches him, half grinning, half panting.

Ben is blunt. He just spits in his hand and mixes his own saliva with Poe's, then looks at Poe for approval. “Can I go, now?” Ben asks, anxious, so young.

Poe smiles at this particular phrasing, opens his legs to accomodate Ben, then clings at Ben’s hips. He feels Ben move towards him slowly, too deliberately, kind of scared even. Poe doesn’t what to think what that means, he just wants Ben inside him, fast. He feels when Ben uses his own hand to guide himself. It’s urgent but not reckless, although Poe wants the recklessness; yearns for this brand-new pain to soothe the ache of not having Ben.

But he doesn’t have to wait. Soon, Ben is all the way in, and once he feels the sultry pull of Poe’s body, his self control fades. He thrusts into Poe with abandonment, fast, hard; hurting and mollifying exactly as Poe wanted, until sweat trickles down Ben’s forehead and drips onto Poe’s skin. Poe is melting against his mattress, every bone and every muscle surrendered to Ben, defeated but rejoicing under the weight of Ben’s body.

When Poe feels on the edge of an oncoming explosion, he begs to Ben: “touch me, touch me,” his voice a barely audible whimper. Ben grabs him without any Jedi grace, but he’s all passion and determination. It's enough: Poe comes loudly and messily, spurting all over himself, and that is Ben’s undoing. He goes as deep as possible and unravels with a groan that is almost a sob, then collapses on top of Poe, breathing hard, Poe’s come plastering their bodies together.

Poe runs tired fingers through Ben’s wet hair, until Ben goes soft and pulls out of him, then rolls to his side and holds Poe from behind. Ben kisses Poe’s shoulders, nuzzles at his nape, and sleeps in minutes. Soon after, Poe dozes off as well.

Poe wakes up hours later, still in the dark. Ben is naked near the window, peeking through a gap in the curtains.

“Would you like to eat something? Perhaps take a shower?” He asks, without turning to look at Poe.

Poe stretches his arms, folds them behind his head.

“There’s a bathtub in my dad’s suite.”

They sit together inside the tub, facing each other, and just kiss, open mouthed, until their lips get swollen and tingly. BB-8 finally manages to barge in, but they don’t care, and he ends up leaving the room, annoyed and confused - or as annoyed and confused as a droid can get, anyway. Poe will talk to him later. Ben occupies most of the bathtub, so it overflows and there’s foam everywhere. Ben’s soaking wet hair is useless to hide his ears, and they pop up magnificently from his head. Poe wants to kiss them, so he does, grinning like a maniac. After a while, Ben manages to grab Poe’s foot, and he kisses it too.

“You know why I asked my mother to call for you?” Ben starts.

“You’ve told me already, you wanted to know if I had forgiven you.”

“That’s just one reason.”

Poe keeps his nonchalant face. “Yeah? What’s the other?”

“I resigned to a seat at the New Jedi Order Council.”

“And what does that mean?” Poe is almost afraid to ask.

“It means I’m not compelled to obey to some parts of the Jedi Code. Like the vow to never get married.”

“Ah. I see. So you intend to get married?” Poe shifts uncomfortably, pulls back his foot from Ben’s hand.

“I intend to have a consort, yes.” Ben gazes at the surface of the water, avoiding Poe's eyes.

“And why are you telling me all this?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“I’m no mind reader.”

Ben searches for Poe's legs under the water, caresses his shins, but doesn't look into Poe's face.

“I want you to be this - person. You. For a long time, now. Perhaps you could think about it. I mean, about being my companion. After I'm crowned.”

Ben gets very red when he says that. Poe feels light-headed. The last 48 hours have been absurd. Is he really in his father’s bathtub, naked with Ben Solo, the heir of the throne, listening to the weirdest marriage proposal in Alderaan’s history?

He wants to say no. This is too fast, too insane, but it feels so right, as if every cell is his body had been dormant until now, waiting for Ben Solo to come along and be the spark that would light the fire that could burn all of Poe’s reservations down. His stomach sunks low, like the crazy gravity inside a fighter. But it's a good feeling. 

Poe splashes water in his own face.

“This is all very tempting, but I need to think. Okay? Do you hate me? Ben?”

Ben looks at Poe when he listens to his name. It felt good saying it, Poe admits to himself. Maybe the name held some other meaning, an insight reavealed by the Force, because Ben's eyes are soft and he looks contented. 

“I could never hate you. Can I kiss you?” Ben asks.

“Yes. Please."

The kiss is brief, but they hold each other for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I got a little carried away by darktensh17's delightful prompt. I hope you like it!
> 
> "What if Alderaan was never destroyed and Ben was the crown prince of the nation. Poe has grown up with his friend never realizing what that means for Ben. The two grow separate when Ben starts prince training and jedi training.
> 
> Poe doesn't really see him again until Ben shows up at his door asking Poe to be his consort."
> 
> Please let me know if there are any mistakes, I didn't have a beta reader.


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